


Gyftmas Presents

by TheManicMagician



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Babybones (Undertale), Fluff, Gen, Gyftmas, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManicMagician/pseuds/TheManicMagician
Summary: UF babybones fluff. Papyrus tries to find Sans the perfect gift for the holiday season.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadow_of_Quill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_of_Quill/gifts).



> Quill requested something fluffy with the UF bros. I hope you like it! And Merry Christmas, everyone~

The Gyftmas holiday isn’t meant for monsters like them. It’s a tradition of gift swapping started and shared between the nobility. In any other circumstance, monsters would be wary of any packages given to them by one that is not their kin. They’d suspect trickery, tampering. But instead of sabotage, Gyftmas is used as a way to strengthen alliances with trades of new weapons and family heirlooms.

But that’s how the nobles do it. The rest of monsterkind is not so fortunate. Few among them can afford to buy gifts—all money goes to food, clothing, the absolute essentials. Children’s toys are scavenged from the dump. Weapons are sharpened over and over again until the metal is worn to thin slivers and has no choice but to be replaced.

Papyrus and Sans are even worse off than the average monster. Their home is not of brick or wood, but instead a secluded, cool cave in Waterfall. Food is begged or scavenged or stolen. Gyftmas should be entirely out of the question, but the skeleton brothers have never been ones to settle. Each year, Sans has managed to get Papyrus a little something special, be it chocolate, new gloves, an action figure. This is the first year Papyrus has stopped to consider how lopsided the equation is; clearly, Sans needs a Gyftmas gift as well.

Right now, Sans is snoring softly, curled by the entrance of their cave. It’s a foolish move, strategically. If anyone attacks them in the night, Papyrus can take a hit, and Sans can’t. But every time Papyrus plants himself at the mouth of the cave, Sans effortlessly lifts him with his magic and moves him further inside.

Sans’ jacket serves him as a makeshift blanket, but only barely so. Sans has had the smelly thing for years. It’s been patched up by miscellaneous scraps of cloth so many times, barely any of the original fabric is still visible. It’s plain to Papyrus what the perfect gift would be.

Sans has always been excellent at sewing, fitting together mismatched pieces to make something better. Papyrus runs a hand down his coat. It had been last years’ Gyftmas present from Sans. His brother had splurged on the materials and handstitched the entire thing. It kept Papyrus warm during the bitter cold of the winter months. Living underground doesn’t spare them from the cold outside; either that, or King Asgore had his scientists engineer something to keep the mountain freezing cold for several months at a time. Whatever the cause, the result is monsters must bundle up or perish.

Papyrus grimaces. Sans takes care of everything, but has taught him little. Papyrus couldn’t return the favor with a handmade hat or gloves or something of that sort if he tried. Anything he crafted would be merely sentimental, and otherwise useless. Papyrus wants to get him something practical, something Sans can use.

Papyrus digs through his pockets, turning out all the odds and ends. A few G, some bobby pins, a loop of string, a small knife Sans didn’t know he had. Papyrus cannot afford much of anything with what he has now. Frowning, he stuffs everything back into his pockets again and flops back on the floor to settle in for sleep. He needs to figure out what he’s going to do for Sans’ gift soon—Gyftmas is but a week away, after all.

~*~

A little after sunrise they get dressed and make their way to the capitol, threading their way through the crowd to reach Sans’ place of employment. Sans had managed to acquire an actual job a couple months back in spite of his age. He has to shovel monster dust into a roaring furnace all day; the smell is unfathomable, some perverse mixture of burnt chalk and rotten eggs. Perhaps that is why they turned a blind eye to Sans’ obvious youth when he applied; no one else wants to work at such a gristly job, especially with such low pay.

Sans feels uneasy leaving Papyrus alone in the cave all day, so he brings him along with him. Papyrus never kicks up a fuss, rarely speaks up, so the manager overseeing Sans tolerates his presence. A small part of him is tempted to act out, be banned from the establishment entirely. If he managed that, he’d have the days to himself. He could train his magic, scavenge in the dump. But Sans wouldn’t be happy. He’d get near sick with fretting about him, to the point where his job might even be at risk. Papyrus can’t do that to him.

It is on their way to Sans’ job when he sees it. A thick winter coat, on display behind the glass pane of a high-end shop. Papyrus was following behind Sans, but he slows, then presses his skull to the glass to get a better look. The coat is jet black; it’d help Sans sneak around at night. The inside of the jacket is lined thickly, and there’s a fluffy hood that’d make a nice pillow a night. Warm, durable, new. This is what Sans deserves, what he needs.

“Papyrus, come on.” Sans has stopped several feet ahead, waiting for him to catch up.

Papyrus glances at the coat a moment more before he rejoins his brother. He has found the perfect gift. His next task is to claim it.

~*~

That night, Papyrus stares at Sans’ back, the outline of his body illuminated by the faint glow of echo flowers. Papyrus waits, watching as the shallow rise and fall of Sans’ shoulders grow deeper.

Papyrus rises slowly, keeping his eyes on Sans the entire time. His brother’s breathing pattern remains steady, so Papyrus takes a tentative step forward. Still no change. Papyrus steps lightly, shoes whispering along the cave floor.

He reaches Sans, who has yet to stir. It takes some maneuvering to climb over Sans while also ducking down to not bump his head on the shrinking ceiling, but he manages.

After a few moments he’s outside the cave. He barely contains the urge to whoop for joy, and thereby ruin the entire stealth maneuver he just pulled off.

Papyrus trots off. Echo flowers brush past his knees, murmuring back to him the sound of his boots splashing into the muck. He knows his window of opportunity to pull this off is rather small, so he needs to get there as quickly as possible.

His jog to the capitol takes little over half an hour, time Sans’ teleportation power normally shaves down to seconds.

The streets of New Home are dark this time of night, Papyrus’ way led only by the occasional flickering lamplight. He can feel coldly curious eyes watching him from the dark, assessing him, judging if he’s free EXP waiting for the taking. So Papyrus squares his shoulders and marches forward, not betraying so much as a hint of fear. Sans has taught him that sometimes presentation can work just as well, if not better, than strength.

At last, he reaches the shop with the coat in the window. Relief pulses through him; it hasn’t been sold out yet. The store’s lights are turned off, and there doesn’t seem to be a monster working as security inside. He can do this.

Papyrus takes a deep breath, and summons several bone attacks. He flings them forward and they shatter the glass with a mighty crash. The burglar alarm shrills, so Papyrus acts fast. His boots crunch over shards of broken glass as he runs up to the display. He yanks the coat from its mannequin and takes off. Several of the eyes that had been following him become distracted by the store, the free wares left for the taking. Some eyes still follow him.

Papyrus runs and runs. He feels a claw scrape lightly at his back, just missing him, and Papyrus whips around, driving a sharpened bolt of bone magic straight at their leg. They howl and snarl, and stop chasing him.

Still, Papyrus does not stop running until he is all the way back at the entrance to their cave. Papyrus’ harried footfalls have Sans jolting awake, red flaring in his eye, magic bristling and ready to attack. All of Sans’ fighting spirit dies at the sight of Papyrus.

“Papyrus, what—” Sans glances behind him, further into the cave. Where Papyrus was _supposed_ to be, instead of before him, awkwardly grappling with a too-large coat in his hands. “Where did you get that?”

“Not important!” Papyrus folds up the coat before handing it over, pushing it into Sans’ arms. “I got it for you.”

But Sans doesn’t hurry to throw it on, as Papyrus thought he would. He frowns down at the coat, then looks up to Papyrus. He grabs him by the arm and drags him back inside their cave.

“I can’t believe you. You snuck out, you stole. Do you realize how dangerous it is to do that stuff without me there? What if you’d been caught, what if—”

“But I wasn’t caught!” Papyrus wisely decides to keep secret the bit where another monster nearly grabbed him. “So it’s no problem, right?”

Sans exhales sharply. “You’re missing the _point_ , Papyrus. You could’ve been dusted. What were you thinking?”

“It’s not fair!” Tears prick Papyrus’ eye sockets. Embarrassed at the show of weakness, he wipes the tears away with the sleeve of his coat.

“…What’s not fair?”

“You always…you do so much for me, and I just. Wanted to show you that I appreciated it.” Papyrus scuffs his shoes, staring down at the ground. “That I….appreciated you. Very much.” Neither of them have said the “L” word in forever. It’s nearly taboo to say aloud, to display openly that level of weakness.

Sans says nothing for a moment, then moves towards him. Papyrus braces for more scolding, and is surprised when Sans pulls him in for a tight hug. One of his hands pats the crown of Papyrus’ head.

“I know you care. You didn’t have to risk yourself to show me that. You’re such a numbskull sometimes.”

Then Sans starts noogying his head and Papyrus squirms to get away.

“Nyeh! Brother, stop!”

Laughing, Sans lets him go.

“Guess I better put this on, then.” He gives Papyrus a sharp look. “But this does not mean I approve of you sneaking out. Do not try to pull something that again, kiddo.”

Papyrus nods, grateful to be let off the hook so easily.

Sans peels out of his patchwork coat, letting it drop to the floor. He slips on the new black coat, and zips it up. It’s a bit too large for him, the sleeves several inches longer than the ends of his fingertips. But still, he lets out a contented sigh. The jacket is thick, warm. Its puffiness gives Sans some extra bulk.

“It’s great, Paps. Really.”

Papyrus plants his hands on his hips. “But of course! Only the best gifts from the Great Papyrus! Nyeh heh heh!”

Sans moves over to a small corner of the cave, which acts as their pantry.

“I guess since we’re swapping Gyftmas presents early this year, I’ve got something for you too.”

Sans moves the piles of canned food out of the way, revealing the present he had tucked away.

He returns to Papyrus with a handmade crimson scarf. He winds it around Papyrus’ neck, then boops him on the forehead.

“There. To keep that numb skull of yours warm.”

Papyrus cringes.

“Ugh, brother, I think that was your worst one yet.”

“That didn’t tickle your funny bone?”

“Stop!”

“You didn’t find it…humerus?”

“I’ve changed my mind, I’m bringing the jacket back!”

A few hours later, Papyrus is still feeling the soft fabric of the scarf between his fingers. His fingers brush against something bumpy. He flips the scarf over, to see what it is. Stitched in black thread, on the underside of the scarf, is a small heart next to Sans’ name. Love, Sans.

Papyrus hides his beaming smile in the folds of his new red scarf, his soul warm.

           


End file.
